The Giant Cupcake Cake.  It sounds so simple; a big, nay HUGE version of the failsafe My-First-Bake, everyone’s-a-winner cupcake.

So I thought as I contemplated the cake mould in the store last week, in anticipation of my best friend’s birthday brunch.  The double cup tin looked not so much like a cake mould as a cast-off from one of Madonna’s stage shows, glinting in its conical glory.  In fact like most great bras, it promised so much at first glance.  So I purchased the beast and brought it home.  Today my sous chefs and I poured vats of cake batter into the damn things and still managed to only fill them to half-way.  After an hour of trembling in the oven (an hour!),  I lost patience and extracted them, by now heavily punctured with skewers and displaying a jaunty tilt – impressively each seemed to tilt at a different angle.

Having deployed kilos of sugar and butter in the assembly of the two halves (look away, my healthy friends…), I discovered that giant cupcake cakes of course require giant nozzles through which to pipe the frosting; my dainty array were just not going to cut it.  In the end we all slathered the frosting on in handfuls, and prayed that a touch of Martha Stewart ribbon would mask the heavy labour and give a misleading air of lightness and chic to the cake, which by now resembled nothing more than a squat cottage loaf and yet still stands an impressive 12 inches tall.  Judge for yourself; I’d suggest waiting 3-4 days after tasting before one ventures to take a blood cholesterol test….

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